Normally I’d enjoy this level of civic participation, but it all seems so displaced.
America is talking about the giant pile of shit that now dominates the Oval Office instead of the goddamn elephant of unchecked capitalism we’ve let use the White House as a dumping ground for 50 years.
It is important to continue a dialogue about not normalizing this administration, but believing in a corporate left (and the media that belongs to it) will only perpetuate the power consolidation by the rich.
Jeff was sitting at the opposite end of the couch—this was in Los Angeles, a couple weeks back—and Leah was in the kitchen and we were all talking over the TV debating when to leave to watch John Wick 2. Checking the clock above the television, I said that it was 9:45. Jeff interjected No, that clock is wrong, but as we checked our various devices, they all confirmed the time. They were dumbfounded.
The saying goes that even a broken clock is right twice a day, but this particular clock is never right. It still moves, just at the wrong interval, making the likelihood of actually lining up with the right time of day the type of math I just won’t do anymore.
Make no mistake about it: a broken-ass clock randomly hitting the right time of day once or twice is what last night’s congressional address consisted of. The media is treading dangerously close to the dialogue of normalization by calling Trump taking advantage of dead troops during a national broadcast ‘Presidential.’1
A study on the book as a piece of art as well as the concept of individuality amongst the many, Out of Mind is an original 160-page book printed in a single edition of 100. Each copy was then manipulated by hand; writing, illustration or photography would be added and other pages manipulated or destroyed. The result is an edition of books where the slight differences between each copy become the most distinct conceptual thread.
These days are different, shifted. I understand that sitting on the porch, watching the light and the leaves change color is to someone time wasted. How much of life do you want to spend observing beauty? How much of life do you want to spend taking action?
I am fascinated by a future version of myself in which I’m able to understand my current state of being. What years are these for me? Is this where everything begins to make sense, or is it the beginning of the end?